


Happy Birthday, France!

by americalovesthecockpit



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Smut, USUK - Freeform, lulz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-17
Updated: 2012-06-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 22:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americalovesthecockpit/pseuds/americalovesthecockpit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America and England sneak into France's bed while he's sleeping and try to have sex without waking France up. But don't worry. It's a Tempurpedic!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, France!

**Author's Note:**

> Contains some smut!
> 
> This fic is for Skadiyoko who gave me the idea! :D

France had described his lavish celebration so eloquently, painting a vivid picture with just of few of his French accented words.

But America had just told England they were going to 'some big ass fancy party.'

Fancy indeed. France had turned his house into something that reminded America of a country club, except everything was distinctly French, which just made it even more fancy. Nearly every country in the world was invited. Even the poor ones. And not just so France could show off such extravagance. No, it was a birthday party.

America loved birthdays but he wasn't too keen on being fancy. So he stuck to one of the tables with food. He stuffed some cheese in his mouth, as it was the only kind of food he recognized. "God, this suit is friggin' chaffing me," he said as he picked at his crotch.

"Knock that off," scolded England. "Someone will see you."

One of America's hands was still shoveling cheese in his face, the other still adjusting his groin. "But these pants are so tight in the crotch!"

"Be discrete about it, idiot!"

"Come and stand in front of me and block me, so I can really dig in."

England sighed. He was leaning against the table, arms folded, and watching the other party goers around him to see if anyone had seen. But none of them were paying attention. They were too busy sipping wine, faking laughs, all dolled up in formal dresses and suits, to notice.

"Eh, no one's looking anyway," said England.

"Sweet." America gave the inseam of his pants a good tug. "Yay, that's a little better."

"This party is the dog's bollocks," England mumbled, crossing his arms tighter. "Let's make up an excuse and leave."

"BUT WE JUST GOT HERE!" said America, spewing cheese out of his mouth.

"Why did you even want to come to this bloody frog's party anyway?"

America almost smirked at him, but his mouth was still stuffed with cheese, so he didn't quite pull off the look.

A figure suddenly pushed its way between them.

"Care for some wine, gentlemen?" France said the word 'gentlemen' like it was a joke. He was holding a platter with two wine glasses, filled with something fancy and French, of course.

"I'd rather have a beer …" England muttered, glancing sideways.

"Ooh, ooh!" said America excitedly. "I'll take one!" He snatched it up from the platter, grabbing the glass by the wide cup part.

"Hold it by ze stem," France corrected. "Zat is ze correct way to hold a wine glass when appreciating ze rich flavor, as it tantalizes your taste buds, enveloping your tongue in a sweet embrace, like a fine French woman's -"

"It's so your hand doesn't make the wine warm," interrupted England.

"Tsk," tutted France. "And you call yourself a gentleman, England."

America lowered his fingers on the wine glass so that he properly held it by the stem. "Okay! Look! I did it!" But he did not take a sip.

"I'm so glad you two could make it," said France, and it was impossible to tell if he was being sarcastic or if that was just how his flamboyant French accent sounded. "I wanted to give you both my sincerest thanks for your gift. I daresay it was likely the best I have received this year."

"Oh, you!" replied America giddily, giving him a little wave. "It was nothing!"

England shot America a glare. He wasn't told about any gift …

"No, no, it was and I love it," said France. "So expensive, I'm sure! Heh - you two spoil me!"

England was trying so hard to catch America's eye so that he could see the pure scorn radiating out of his. But America just wouldn't look in his direction.

"You're welcome!" America beamed. He was swirling the wine in the glass, still not drinking any. "So it came already?"

"Oui. Zey delivered it yesterday morning. I was able to use it last night."

"Yeah? How'd you like it?"

"Oh, it was divine …"

England was turning red, gritting his teeth. Little was holding him back from bopping America on the head and shouting various curses at him.

"Cool beans," said America, oblivious. "Can I see it?"

"Hmm." France glanced around, seeing his other guests chattering in small groups. "I suppose it would be okay if I didn't grace their presence for just a few minutes. Follow me."

France set down the platter and made his way out of the main room. America and England tagged behind, following him down a hallway.

"What the hell," England whispered harshly to America, making sure to hang back enough that France wouldn't hear. "You didn't tell me about any gift!"

"Huh? Oh yeah! That's because I know you'd say no," America whispered back.

"Then you shouldn't have done it! Christ, did you really put both our names on it?"

"Yep! Sure did!"

"Why would you do that? ! That makes us look like a married couple or something!"

"You sure nag like a wife …" America mumbled.

"And France said it was pricey? !" England hadn't heard America's comment. "Why would you waste money on him?"

"He did get me the State of Liberty for my birthday, ya know."

England glared back at America, for America had gestured his hands down in an hourglass shape when he said 'Statue of Liberty.'

"Everything okay back there, boys?" asked France, glancing back. The hallway was about to end.

"Oh, so now we're boys instead of gentleman -"

France cut England off. "Ah! Here we are. My bedroom, honhonhon …"

Now England shot America a different kind of look. Wide eyes with raised eyebrows that meant nothing else except 'What the fuck? !' What kind of present did America get him? !

France opened the door to his bedroom. England was ready to bolt, fearing sexual assault, but was shocked to see it looked like nothing but a normal bedroom.

America was excited though. He went straight for the bed, which made England raise his large eyebrows even higher. America felt the mattress with his hand. "So cool!"

"So luxurious," said France, standing beside him. "Like sleeping on ze clouds in Heaven zemselves."

"Psssh, God wishes he had a Tempurpedic," said America. "But it's all American made, aw yeeeah!"

"Tempurpedic …" England whispered to himself, looking at the bed. America got France a mattress for his birthday? A mattress of all things? It wasn't exactly the first go-to for gift ideas. He was trying to process this …

"Do you have one?" France asked America.

"No."

"Oh? Why not?"

"I dunno if it's as good as the commercial says it is."

France cocked an eyebrow. "But it was good enough to buy for me? Zat's a bit of an insult, no?"

"And you sure seemed damned excited about it a minute ago," said England.

"Yeah, well it feels nice," said America. "But, see, in the commercial they put a glass of wine on one side of the bed, and then someone jumps up and down on the other side of the bed, and the glass of wine doesn't spill."

It was then that they both noticed that America still hadn't taken one sip of his wine.

"Non!" scolded France. "You will not jump on zis bed, America!"

"Aw, come on! Like you haven't."

"I have not!"

America set his glass of wine on the bed. "It'll just take a minute!"

"And what if it spills?"

"Won't be the last stain on that bed …" England muttered.

"You probably meant zat as an insult," said France. "But for me zat's a compliment, no?"

"Ugh …"

"Now, America, remove zat wine at once," said France, returning his attention to America. "Zat is not tacky five dollar boxed wine like you have in your country, it is a classic 1876 - Sacre bleu! Put your shoes back on!"

"Why would you want me to wear my shoes when jumping on the bed?" asked America as if it was a legitimate question. "Jeez, I'm doing you a favor … excuuuuuse me …"

Now it was France who wanted to bop America on the head. But one of his hired servants popped into the doorway. "Sir!" he exclaimed. "Come quick! It is a disaster!"

"Oh?" France looked concerned. "What is ze matter?"

"It's ze cheese, sir! We are all out!"

"MON DIEU!" France exclaimed dramatically. "What is wine without cheese? !"

"I know, sir! Whatever will we do? !"

"We pray," France said solemnly. "We pray. With all our hearts that God will see us through zis travesty."

"Yeesh, melodramatic much?" said America, cracking up. "What a drama queen."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," said France, but not sarcastically this time. His demeanor was nothing except serious for this tragedy. "I must tend to my guests during zis delicate time. My sincerest apologies." France bowed his head, and left with his servant.

"That was … odd," said England.

"Dude. I think that was my fault. I did eat a lot of cheese."

England sighed. "That you did."

"I mean … a lot of cheese. I'm not gonna poop for days." America hopped up on the bed as he spoke. "Haha, my bad."

"What are you doing? !"

"Testing the mattress, duh!" America stood on the bed, grinning widely as he stared down at England. Then he jumped, just a small jump, tentatively. He looked down at the wine glass.

It didn't move.

"SWEET!"

So then America happily started bouncing on the bed. He jumped up and down like an excitable child. The wine in the wine glass wobbled ever so slightly, but did not spill.

"This is so cool!" exclaimed America. "DUDE! Look at it! I'm jumping on the bed and it's not spilling!"

England was crossing his arms again. "France is going to be angry if it does spill." He thought on that for a moment. "Second thought, you should knock it over on purpose."

"Noooo! This is too c - OOF!" America stopped jumping and rubbed his head. "Ouch, I bumped my head on the ceiling, haha!"

"Idiot. That's what you get for jumping around like a bloody fool."

America sat down on the bed, still rubbing his head. "Hey, England," he said with a sly smirk. "I have a funny idea."

England arched an eyebrow. It wasn't very often that America smirked like that.

"So now that we know the Tempurpedic is so cool that you can jump around and not spill a wine glass … I'm thinking about what else you could get away with doing on the bed without it being felt."

"Yeah?" England sat down on the bed too. Right next to the wine glass. He was hoping it'd spill since he sat down, but it barely moved. "Like what?"

"Well, think about it. Someone could be in the bed and you could do whatever and they wouldn't even know it."

"Heh. You could cheat on your spouse while lying right next to them."

"I know, right? ! They wouldn't feel the movement!"

"That's a bit unsettling."

"Not just spouses," said America. "Anyone could have sex right in the same bed as someone else, and as long as they were quiet, the other person would never know!"

"Hmm." England seemed to be thinking about it. "I suppose … theoretically … that could happen …"

But America wasn't thinking about the theoretic. "England …" he whispered, grinning childishly and snickering. "… hehe … let's do it."

"Do … what …" America's words were sinking as England spoke. "Wait … you mean …"

"Yeah." America tittered again. "Dude, it'll be so funny!"

"Funny?" England scooted a little more space between him and America. "You realize what you're saying, right? This … this can't be legal."

"Psssh, whatever. Look, I got it all worked out. We'll hide so France thinks we've left. Then we'll wait for all the rest of his guests to leave too. Eventually he'll go to bed. We wait until he falls asleep, then we sneak out … and get freaky right next to his sleeping body! He'll never know!"

"Dear God, America! What made you come up with such an idea? !"

America shrugged. "I dunno. I just wanted to see if I could get away with it."

"Please don't tell me that's the reason you got him a Tempurpedic mattress to begin with."

America looked away sheepishly. "Maybeeee …" he said singsong. When England was staring him down with a look of disgust and disapproval, he quickly added, "But come on! It's a Tempurpedic! A Tempurpedic, dude! It's too cool NOT to have sex secretly next to someone and try to get away with it."

England was still glaring. His arms were folded tightly as he leaned away from America, his body language saying it all. "And if he wakes up?"

"As long as we're quiet, he won't."

"Then you might as well not even try. You can never be quiet."

"I can if it's for something as funny as this!"

"No," England said sternly. "Just … no. I could never do this. Even if it is that bloody frog - that stupid, arrogant, perverted, stuck-up, bearded, disgusting … umm …." England forgot where that sentence was going exactly.

"See? You hate France! This'll be the perfect prank!"

"Ehhh … I just don't know …"

Just then, France popped his head in the room. "Umm, gentleman!" The word was most certainly sarcastic that time. "I never gave permission for either of you to stay in here! And especially not to touch my bed." His lip was curled in disgust. "Out, s'il vous plait, let's go!" He rudely snapped his fingers and waved them toward the door.

As they walked out, England cut America a sideways glance, smirking. "Okay," he whispered. "Changed my mind. Let's do it."

"Cool beans!"

X

The party guests were starting to filter out.

The hours ticked by, the rooms were emptying, the servants already cleaning up.

America and England said their goodbyes to France, though France didn't quite understand why America kept snickering during a simple farewell. And why England was elbowing him in the ribs while blushing. It didn't make sense, but it'd been a long night, and France was too tired to care.

When the servants finally finished, he bid them farewell too, and headed off to the bathroom for a much needed shower.

Of course, America and England never really left. When they noticed they were among the last of the guests, they said goodbye, pretended to leave, but then turned right back around as soon as France stopped watching them. They snuck into his bedroom, where they waited quietly in his closet.

"Oh, dude," whispered America, cracking up. "This is gonna be so epic."

"We have just a few minutes before he's done in the shower," said England. "Let's get everything straight now since we can't talk during." America nodded, but it was too dark in the closet for England to see. "We'll need to wait at least twenty minutes before we go out. We need to make absolutely sure he's asleep before we start. Luckily he's a heavy sleeper, so once he's out, we should be good from there."

"Pffft, how the hell do you know he's a heavy sleeper?"

"Um," England said very quickly. "I-it's not what you think! It's just - we've known each other a long time and, and, and -"

"Haha, whatever. Calm down, dude."

"Hmmph. Anyway, we'll remove only clothing that is necessary. That way, once we finish, it'll be easier to get away. And …" England's voice grew more nervous. "God forbid, France actually wakes up … he'll see the least amount of us possible."

"Damnit," whined America. "This suit is sooooo uncomfortable though!"

"Tough shit," snapped England. "Now … what are we going to do about lube …"

"Ooh, I brought some!"

" …"

"… what? !"

"… you did plan this, didn't you? !"

"What, a guy can't carry lube around with him? Jeez! Come on! It's a free country!" Then America hesitated. "Wait, crap. Is France a free country? Haha, I don't even know."

"Cheeky bastard," muttered England. "Now … back to business. We'll need to take turns watching France, to make sure he doesn't wake up."

"Eew, I'm gonna have a hard time getting off like that."

"Hey, this was your crazy idea! I'm just planning it out is all."

"Fine, fine, whatevs. What else?"

"Hmm." England thought hard. "After we're done, we need to leave immediately and quietly. We'll go down the hall and use the back door, and sneak out into the garden."

"Cool beans."

"And for the love of God, don't leave any stains!"

"I got a Tide To Go Stick in my pocket."

England was silent.

"What, dude? Talk to me."

"… I knew it! You really did plan this!"

America shrugged, though England couldn't see in the dark closet. "I was just curious!"

There was a brief silence, followed by an irritated sigh. And nothing else.

America was getting antsy. "Dude, stop being so quiet! It's pitch black in here! This is weird!"

"Christ, I'm thinking!" England snapped. "I'm trying to make sure we have everything covered before France comes in." England paused to concentrate. "… hmm. I can't believe I didn't think about this before, but we're not going to be able to just walk out there and start. It won't be easy to … uh … get aroused under these conditions."

"Nnnyeah?" America's mouth sounded full.

"I think we should - what's in your mouth?"

"Cheese." America snickered. "Don't tell France. I stuffed some in my pocket before we walked away."

"Concentrate, America! I was going to say that perhaps we should … well … get a little warmed up, before France comes in."

"Mmm." It wasn't clear if that noise was for England's idea or the cheese.

"That way, once he's asleep, we can just walk out there and begin right away. Cut right to the chase, if you will."

There was one last swallow, and America's voice didn't sound full anymore. "A'ight. Lemme find you." Blind hands fumbled in the dark. "Oh, here we go. Found ya." There was a rustling sound. "Hmm - oh. Oh. WOW! Someone's excited already!"

"America …"

Rustle rustle.

"Aw yeah. How's this feel?"

Rustle rustle.

"… um …"

"Oh yeah. You like that, don't you?"

"…"

"Damnit England, stop being so frigid! What's wrong with you?"

"I don't feel anything, idiot!"

"What the hell are you talking about? I'm jerking you off."

"You are not."

"Uh, yeah I am!"

"I think I would know, git!"

"Why the hell is your dick so cold?"

England flipped open his cell phone and shined the small light toward America's direction. It was just enough to see America's hands jerking off a large dildo.

"GAHHH!" exclaimed America. He quickly pulled his hand away, dropping the item.

"Oh, right," said England. "How could we forget this is France's closet. He would have a dildo in here, wouldn't he?"

"Eew eew eew!" America flailed his hands. "I just realized where that thing's probably been! Gross! God, there's not enough Purell in the WORLD to sanitize my hands now!"

"Focus …"

"IN THE WHOLE WORLD!" sobbed America.

"Shhh! He could be walking in any minute! Now come, let's do this properly."

"Okay. LET'S MAKE OUT!"

"Hmm." England was considering this. "Very well. But let me take the lead, so you don't screw anything else up." He took a step forward to close the gap, and there was a crunch.

"HAHA! What was that?"

"Shit … I stepped on something."

"I've been stepping on something this whole time. I'm pretty sure it's broke now."

"Damn … France is gonna notice this …"

"He won't know it's us though! Now come on, it's making out time!"

England's hands fumbled in the dark, trying to find America. First his fingers bumped into America's chest, so he ran them up to find his face. Then he leaned in, awkwardly pushing their mouths together, as he missed his lips at first. But after feeling around a little more, their lips locked, and England leaned farther in.

"Mmmph!" America yelped.

England pulled back. "What? What's wrong?"

"You're pushing me into all the clothes and a hanger is jabbing me in the back!"

"Ugh … this isn't working very well."

"Um, hold on. Let me get resituated." There was a rustling, then another crunch. "… oops."

"Damnit, we don't have time for this! France won't be taking a shower forever! Now come here!" England forcefully grabbed America's face, this time pulling America toward him. There was another crunch as America was forced to take another step forward, but they ignored it. This time England was much more aggressive. As soon as he found America's lips he forced them to part, jabbing his tongue inside. It worked forcefully, deliberately inside America's mouth. America made a noise, a little like a whine, but it was nearly completely muffled by England's uncompromising mouth over his.

Not to be outdone, America started rubbing his knee between England's legs. England's tongue broke its movements for only a second when he felt it, then resumed with even more vigor. America snickered into the kiss and rubbed harder. He could feel a bulge growing, pressing into his knee.

There was a thump and another crunch, and America was against the wall. They had surely broken something else but they didn't care anymore. England had taken quite a liking to America's knee at his crotch. He started to grind his hips into America's leg. America responded by rubbing even faster. England matched, then even beat, America's pace. Soon he was practically dry humping America's leg, thrusting and grinding for friction through the fabric of their clothes.

America suddenly parted their lips, gasping for air. "Dude, I am chaffing like I have never chaffed before."

"Yeah?" England growled the word out.

"Yeah. These pants were tight before, you can just imagine how they feel with a boner!"

"Shhh." England silenced him with his mouth, closing over it again. He was doing most of the work now, both his tongue and hips steadily pressing themselves into America.

America was distracted by frantically trying to unzip himself. He quickly popped the button and then fumbled slightly with the zipper, but then it was down, and finally the pressure that had been chaffing him all night was lessoned. He reached inside and fondled himself under his boxers.

"Heh …" America's voice sounded strained, breaking their kiss. "Can I take it out yet?"

England took a moment to respond. "… um, g-get the lube. We'll slick up before we go out there."

America huffed and pulled his hand out of his pants. There was more rustling and then a popping sound.

"Give it to me," said England.

"No, I'm gonna do it."

"No, you'll fuck it up. Give it here."

"Nooooo! I'm doing it!"

"Fucking twat, hand it ov - shit." England voice dropped to a light whisper. "What was that?"

"I THINK IT'S FRANCE!"

Suddenly they heard footsteps. England hushed America, and they waited quietly. The bedroom door opened and they heard more footsteps, rustling of clothes, a click of a lamp, then nothing. Nothing but silence. It rolled on as the minutes ticked by …

X

England was trying to estimate how long it'd been. He hoped it was twenty minutes. America was squirming from boredom and his aching erection. He wasn't used to being so quiet for so long. England helped him out by occasionally, and quietly, cupping and rubbing his erection through his pants so that he didn't go soft. America returned the favor for England, and while it felt good, it was painfully awkward to feel each other up in complete silence and pitch black darkness.

"I think he's asleep," America finally whispered.

"Shhhh," hushed England so quietly America could barely hear.

"What? It's been forever. I'm sure he can't hear us, let's go."

The closet door creaked open. England flinched, gritting his teeth, as the sound slowly, slowly, crept on. He wondered if France would wake up. But after a few seconds of silence, they continued on.

Their footsteps were light and barely audible.

America, however, was not. "Pffftttchhchhchhpffft," he snickered.

"Shhhh," hushed England as quietly as he could.

They were walking almost blindly. America eventually bumped into the bed, but he was happy about that, because that's what he was looking for. England heard the slight noise and followed it.

Then there was a popping noise. Followed by the sound of a liquid lightly splattering.

Way, way too much.

"FFFFFfffffffff …" America's voice was semi-loud at first, but he caught himself, and made it a whisper. "… ffudge."

There were hands poking at America after then. Rustling fast, hurried with an irritated huff. Then England finally found what he was trying to grab, and yanked the lube bottle from America.

England pressed his mouth to America's ear and whispered harshly, "Quit fucking spilling it everywhere."

Then he pushed America onto his back. America hit the bed hard, but it didn't move. It was a Tempurpedic, after all.

"Hehehe," America was giggling as he started to undo his pants.

America didn't even know England was on the bed until he started to feel England climb on top of him. There was no usual creak of a bed, no slight shift in the mattress, no soft tug of the sheets beneath him, nothing. England's presence surprised him. He didn't know it until he felt England's clothes brush against his, as he straddled himself on top of him.

America fumbled in the dark for England's zipper. England smacked his hand away and did it himself. Soon the pants were undone and tugged down, just enough to do what they were about to do. He sat back, dribbling lube into his hand.

America was squirming underneath of him. He'd wriggled out of his pants and boxers and was barely containing his laughter. "Pfftt … hehe … hehehehehe …!"

The lube was running down England's hand. "Shhh!"

America glanced over to France's sleeping form. The Frenchman was on his back, mouth hanging slightly agape, lightly snoring.

"Hahaha!"

"SHHHH!" scolded England.

"Sorry, sorry," America whispered back. "It's just so funny!"

England darted his eyes over to France to make sure they hadn't woken him. Nope. He was still sound asleep.

It was so dark in the room, they could only make out little more than shadows. The only light was from the window, a partial moon and distant streetlights shining through. France kept to one side of the bed, giving the other two plenty of room. A whole half of the bed was theirs.

America was still fighting back his laughter. He kept looking at France, snoring, and thinking this was one of the funniest pranks he'd ever done. Most epic, was his exact thought.

He couldn't contain himself much longer. "HAHAHAHA!" he burst into laughter. "HAHAHAHA - AAUUUUKKGH …!" The laughter turned into a startled choking sound. England had wormed a finger inside him.

"Uff!" England yelped. America had roughly shoved him.

"What the fuck, dude? !" he whispered harshly.

"What?" England's voice was so soft it was barely audible. "We need to hurry and get started."

"Yeah so get your finger out of me and let's do this!"

"Hmmph! I was just trying to make things easier for you."

"I don't know why. You're the one who's getting it up the ass. Not me."

An uncomfortable silence set in. It prevailed until England finally said, "… no, you are."

"Nuh uh," whispered America. "I'm topping."

"I'm topping."

"Noooooooo! I'm topping!"

"I'm on top."

"Whaaaa …!" choked America. Well. It was true. "I-I thought you were just gonna ride me!"

"You thought wrong." England slipped the finger back inside. "Very wrong."

America shoved England again. This time it was hard enough to knock him off. He rolled off America and in between him and France.

"Ah!" England startled, missing rolling into France by a couple inches. Luckily he caught himself before they touched. "You almost made me wake him up, idiot!" England scolded, keeping his voice low.

"Pffft, whoops," whispered America. "My bad."

England crawled back over to America. On all fours.

Not a good idea, if he didn't want to bottom.

America jumped him from behind. He grabbed England's ass and pulled it to his hips, where America was sitting on his knees. "Hehehe … got you!"

England's nails scraped into the sheets, but it was no use. He was dragged until his ass was pressed tight against America's erection.

"Come onnnnn …" America egged on. "You know you want it like this!"

England's eyes shot to France. Oh God that was too loud we surely woke him up that time shit shit shit ...

But France was indeed a heavy sleeper, and continued to snore.

"You're being a brat," said England as he wriggled from America's grasp. He crawled a few steps away before America pounced on him again. England's body was pressed hard into the mattress, crushed by America's weight.

"You can't escape, hehehe!" America snickered.

It knocked the wind out of England. A deep exhale was forced out of him when America's body crushed down. But he got his revenge by reaching back and pinching a bit of America's fat. Right on his love handle.

"Ouch ouch ouch!" America whined. He jolted up to rub at his side. England took the opportunity to squirm away.

"Heh heh … see?" said England. "Those love handles are perfect for me to hold onto whilst you ride me, eh chubby?"

"THEY'RE FREEDOM HANDLES!"

"Heh. What is it they say in your country? 'More cushion for the pushin'?'"

"HEY!"

And then they were fighting.

Not real fighting, but they rolled around the sheets and shoved each other and flung insults.

"Wanker!"

"Douchenozzle!"

"Twat!"

"Jagoff!"

They each tried to pin each other down. One would gain dominance briefly, holding the other down against the mattress. But then the other would squirm away somehow and flip them. This went back and forth, each grunting and calling names, rustling the blankets.

"This was my ideaaaaaa!" whined America when England restrained him by a big handful of his hair. "I get to make the rules!"

"No, that's not how it works," said England. America was on his stomach beneath him. He wrenched back his head by the grip he had on America's hair. "I'm the one who agreed so it's on my terms."

"You're hurting meeeee!"

America roughly shoved him off. England landed on his side but America rolled him over to his back.

"Shit," England swore, and tried to sit up.

America tackled him. But England fought back, and soon they were rolling and straining again. They both grunted and swore among other sounds, but then suddenly they heard a particularly loud, jolting snore.

America and England froze. They fell silent. England was too afraid to look, but America slowly turned his head to see …

"Phew," America sighed. "France is still asleep."

"No thanks to you, idiot. You nearly woke him up with your big mouth."

"Hey, you were doing it too!"

They didn't realize at first how they had frozen. It would an odd position. America was on top, but somehow they'd gotten switched around. America was pinning him down backwards.

In the 69 position.

England realized it first. "Alright," he whispered. "Since we can't agree on who tops, how about we compromise and 69 instead?"

"Oh, oui. Magnifique."

England swallowed. But not America's cock. No, it was a swallow of nervous terror.

"… F-France?"

"You are ze best mime ever … you'll get out of zat invisible box one day, mon petit … zzzzzzz …" France mumbled in his sleep.

"Hehe!" giggled America. "He's sleep talking!"

England listened to him snore a little longer, then sighed in relief. "Oh, thank God. I thought for sure we were caught that time."

"Me too. I lost my boner and everything!"

"Tsk," said England. He'd lost his while fighting. "Maybe we should forget this idea. That was too close …"

"NO!"

England jolted. "Shhh! You're being too loud!"

"We've come this far! We've GOTTA do it! Come on, let's 69 like you said." America thrust his hips once. He was still pinning England over backwards, on all fours, his cock dangling in England's face. "Come onnnn … let's do this!"

"Christ," said England. "Fine, we'll do it. I suppose it'd be good to get something in your mouth. It'll finally shut you up."

America lowered his hips a little so that England could reach better. England felt around like a blind person, as their bodies were blocking the very little light from the window. Finally he felt it, America's warm cock, which was twitching back to life in anticipation.

It was half hard when England arched his neck and started to lick. He dragged his tongue up from the base to the tip, feeling it stiffen more under him.

"Aw yeeeah."

America was much, much louder than a whisper.

"Shhh," hushed England, the vibrations flittering against America's hardening cock.

England licked until America was fully erect – only a matter of a few seconds. Then he parted his lips and slid it inside.

"Oh," keened America, clenching his eyes shut. "… y-yeeeah … this is even better than France's cheese …"

With a big breath, England sucked. He sucked hard.

"Oh, oh!" whimpered America. He squeezed his eyes even tighter.

"Shhh …" England sounded garbled with America's cock down his throat.

America couldn't help himself. This was feeling too good. So he started moving his hips. He thrust down into England's mouth.

"Mmmph!" England whined when America's cock pressed uncomfortably deep into his throat.

America made his movements shallower, but kept going. He picked up his pace until he was thoroughly face fucking England.

"Hnngggghh …!" America sobbed, letting his head droop. "Oh fudge, this is feels so good, England …"

England had relaxed his throat muscles so that America could throat fuck him like this. But he was getting frustrated. His own cock had hardened back to life and was now begging for attention. This was supposed to be a 69. America had yet to return the favor.

England peered through the space between their bodies. America's head was drooping, just inches from his neglected cock. It was so close England could feel the puffs of air as America breathed hard. The warm air teased the senstive tip, forcing him to leak the tiniest dribble of precum.

That was it. England couldn't bear it any longer. He pushed his hips up into America's face.

"Nnnn!" England scolded. America had no idea what word he was trying to say, but it was clear it was a demand to keep up his end of the deal.

It wasn't America's fault. He was absentminded – he couldn't help it. Sometimes things like sucking cock just slip his mind. But he made up for it by bowing his head and taking's England's length in one big gulp.

England choked and sputtered around America's dick. He hadn't expected it quite like that! In the dark, being distracted by the other's cock still currently ravishing his throat, England didn't know it was coming.

But it was a good surprise. Because damn if America didn't know what he was doing. England tried not to think how exactly America was so good at this – just, no. He didn't want to know. He could just chalk it up to him eating too many hamburgers and losing his gag reflex – or something. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that America's warm, wet, eager mouth was around his cock – his entire cock – and was happily deep-throating him.

England accidentally let America's cock pop out of his mouth. It rested against his lips as he tried to steady his breath and fight back the sounds America was about to force him to make. Had he been in his own bedroom, England would have been crying out. Maybe even screaming. Screaming America's name and moaning all kinds of ungodly, desperate sounds. But France was sleeping a couple feet away beside them, and he had to hold back.

England gritted his teeth, biting down on his lip to keep quiet.

"Pssst, hey," whispered America, sliding England out of his mouth. "Don't forget me, tooooo …"

America wriggled his hips, purposely rutting his cock against England's face. He desperately wanted to be back in England's mouth again.

England shuddered an uneasy sigh. It was so hard not to cry out in pleasure. But he had to keep quiet, so he took America back into his mouth. He let it muffle his cries, turning them into quiet "mmm" and "ahh" noises as America resumed thrusting his hips.

They lost track of time as they both continued to suck each other off. France never stirred more than a snore as the two softly moaned and slurped around each other's cocks. There was no creaking bed. Only wet, sticky sounds of saliva and the occasional pop as one of them slid out, either accidentally or to allow for a little air, before being sucked back in.

"Mmmmm …" England groaned, particularly loudly.

America could tell from the way it sounded so strained that England was close.

Well. It was now or never.

While England was still distracted by America's sliding tongue and lips, America snaked his hand down and gently, ever so gently, slipped his middle finger inside England's entrance.

"Mmmm!"

This time it sounded different. It sounded shocked.

"Shhhh." It was America's turn to hush England for once. "It's okay, you'll like it …"

"Nnnn …!" England's tone sounded frustrated. He was trying to slide back and away from America.

But America didn't let him. He was on top, after all. He grabbed England by the hips and wrenched him back. America's cock popped out of England's mouth, but it was the price he paid for being able to slide a second finger into England.

"America …!" England strained out, and he sounded kind of pissed.

"Dude, just relax," whispered America. One hand held England's hips into place, while the other started thrusting the two fingers like they were a cock. It was an awkward angle, as they were still in the 69 position, but America was going to make it work.

America finger fucked him hard. He was searching for that spot he knew would drive England crazy. The spot that would have England begging and pleading for America to roll him over and fuck him senseless. The spot that would probably make England moan a little too loud for their current situation, but America would figure something to do about that later. Now all he cared about was driving England wild with his fingers.

"Ah, aahhh …!" England yelped, barely holding his voice back. "Shit, America …"

"Hehehe," America snickered.

England tightly grabbed two handfuls of the blanket below them, twisting the fabric in his fingers. "Ohh … fuck …" he whimpered. America's fingers were fucking him roughly, utilizing America's super strength. "God, a-at least use the lube …"

"Heh," huffed America, a glint in his eye unseen in the dark. "What are you saying, England?"

"Nmm," England mumbled.

America suddenly thrust a third finger in. It barely fit, stretching the tight ring of muscle, forcing England's entire body to clench. "What was that?"

"Hgghh …" England panted. "… shit …"

America bent his head down and looked at England through the space between their bodies. "Do you want me to stop?" His voice was condescending.

And England knew it. He clawed desperately at the sheets before mewling, "Fuckkkk …"

America beamed back. From that tone, he knew he'd found England's prostate. He jabbed his fingers into that spot, striking it over and over, holding England's by the thigh to keep him steady. England was huffing and huffing (he would have been moaning, but that damn France …). Each breath was louder than the last. He threw his head back and gave up. If America wanted to finger him, he could finger him. It felt too good to put up a fight anymore.

But just as he lie back to enjoy it, America slid his fingers out.

"Ahh …" England whined, feeling a sudden emptiness.

America rolled off of England. England almost whined once more, but then he felt America crawl on top of him again, this time facing the right way. They were face to face.

"Heh," America breathed heavily, but smirked. "Any objections to me topping now?"

Well damn. England wanted so badly to tell him off. Tell him he'd never bottom to a young brat like himself. He wanted to tell him to bugger off and if this was going to happen, America better roll over and take it like a proper bitch. But damn. He just couldn't.

"No …" he huffed.

"Haha!" laughed America. "Good, because I don't accept any objections—"

England cut him off. Dropping his voice to a tone more husky than he intended, he growled, "Fuck me, America …."

America's mouth gaped. He didn't even remember where that sentence had been going. All he could think about was how now England was not only begging him for it, but demanding it. The words went straight to his cock. It throbbed, almost achingly, between his legs.

"Yes, sir!" America replied giddily.

England would have been amused if he hadn't been so aroused. He looked up at America with a devious smirk as he spread his legs as wide as he comfortably could, bent at the knees.

"Hehehe …" snickered America. He grabbed one of England's thighs and wrenched it up. "I can do it harder from this angle."

England quirked an eyebrow. "Yeah? Let's see about that."

"Hehe … okay!"

America glanced one last time at France. The Frenchman was still right beside them, deep in sleep, snoring peacefully.

"Soooooo funny …" said America, cracking up.

"Focus," England (and his cock) demanded.

America forced one of England's legs up by his head. England grunted, as he wasn't used to being twisted like that, but if it was better that way he'd surely oblige.

"This better be good for you to be manhandling me like that," whispered England.

"Psssh. You love being manhandled by me."

"Heh."

"Soooo … are you re — oh. I guess you are ready."

Yes, England was definitely ready. The way he was reaching his hands down and spreading his ass cheeks open was America's first clue.

"Hells yeeeeah," America said with a smirk. He'd found the lube again, and hurriedly and sloppily slathered his cock in it. England was impatient as he waited for America to finish and finally tuck the bottle back in his pocket.

America rubbed England's thigh, the one raised beside him. But England snorted angrily at him. He was tired of foreplay. He wanted it. Now.

And America obeyed. He lined his cock up and pushed himself in with one thrust. Both of their breaths hitched, one sounding a little more strangled than the other.

"So fucking tight …" America choked out.

"Y-yeah … shit …"

"Ngggh …"

America rocked against England. He slid himself in and out, his pace gradually quickening with each thrust. England could handle it and encouraged him on. "Faster …" he whispered. "Harder … come on … yeah …"

America used England's raised leg for leverage. He held on as he drove himself deeper into England. From that angle, he could do what he promised. He started a brutally hard pace, pile driving England forcefully into the mattress. America was relentless. England had never been fucked so hard in his life. Each thrust was intense, rapid, like piston firing, and all he could do was hold on and try not to scream out.

Which was a very difficult thing to do. America was already forcing out some embarrassing noises, and he didn't know how much longer they would stay like that until he finally screamed. He covered his mouth with his hand and muffled his own cries.

"Nnnmmm!" he sobbed into his hand.

Any other mattress would be moving. Bouncing, even. Hell, it might have scooted across the floor at the rate America was fucking him. But this was a Tempurpedic. So none of the movement – despite its incredible intensity — was transferred.

"I … can't …" started America, in between breaths. "… believe … we're getting away … with this …"

England couldn't reply, aside from a desperate, "Nnnnhh …" sound. His hand was still covering his mouth.

"This is … the most … a-AH! … e-epic sex I ever had …"

"Ufff …" England panted behind his hand.

"You feeling it?" America asked, referring to if he'd found England's prostate again.

England, still covering his mouth, nodded his head vigorously.

"Hehe, awesome!

It was the repeated striking of that spot – hard and fast and way too rough — that was making England have to cover his mouth.

But America didn't have that foresight.

When he started getting close, he lost control of his volume.

"Oh, ENGLAND!" he exclaimed, still furiously pounding into England. "Oh my God. Crap, shit, auuugghh …!"

"Hhhhh," England tried to hush with his own mouth covered. It didn't quite work.

"This feels so good, GOD! DAMN! GODDAMN!" America cried. "I ain't – ah, ah— gonna last m-much longer!"

England moved his hand. "Shhh! You're being too loud! You're going to wake up France, idiot!"

"Ohhhh! I don't even care anymore! Let him see!" America's voice choked. "GOD …"

England's eyes sprang open. Well. He did care. Very much. He did not want that smelly Frenchman seeing him in the throes of passion like this. Especially bottoming. Especially bottoming like this – taking it so roughly.

And thoroughly enjoying it.

France was not going to ruin his fun!

"Oh hells YEEEEEA — mmmmph!"

England clapped a hand over America's mouth. "Shhh!" he hushed, then resumed covering his own.

So then he had one hand over his mouth, and one over America's. He was holding back both of their screams. Damn, why couldn't they just have done this at home, England wondered. They could scream their lungs out there, all night long. Yes, all night long. Because he was certain that if it felt this good he could do it that long until they both collapsed from exhaustion.

England was close too. He could feel it, he was almost there. He felt like all he needed was just a little more help. His cock was aching to be touched. It was leaking precum like he couldn't remember it ever having before. The liquid was actually dribbling down his length. He wanted nothing more than to reach down and jerk himself off. God, he needed to. It wasn't optional; he was so horny, and so close, and he needed just a little more to get his release …

… but both of his hands were busy keeping them quiet.

It was a problem. He considered letting his own mouth go. He had some self-control, right? But his orgasm would be the hardest part to restrain himself during, and he worried about the risk …

Shit shit shit fuck fuck fuck … he cursed in his head. He was so close. He whined desperately, aching for America to get the hint and give him a hand.

Then, miraculously, he did feel it. The hand gripped around his painfully neglected member. England sputtered and whimpered against his palm as the hand pumped him.

"Yessssss …" he hissed.

It didn't take long. Only a few strokes and he was coming. "Ah, AH!" he cried out, the sound muffled, as the white liquid released. It splattered on his shirt, but he didn't care. He was actually sobbing out of pure pleasure.

America never slowed his pace so England rode the orgasm out. When it was finally over and the hand released, England's entire body slacked. He lie flat against the mattress and sighed heavily. Both his hands fell, out of exhaustion, returning to his sides.

"DAMN!" exclaimed America, who had watched England orgasm with glee. "I really AM good!"

England couldn't even argue. He was too busy basking in the afterglow of one damn good orgasm. That, and it was true.

"I'm almost there too," America panted.

"Mmm," mumbled England.

"Now that … you know … t-that I'm good …" America was having difficulty speaking. He was getting tired from such frantic thrusting. "… y-you'll let me … fuck you … AH! … m-more often … right?"

England licked his lips, but it may have been too dark for America to see. "I'll think about it."

"If you … think about it …" America was breathing very hard. " … too much … you'll end up touching yourself … hehe …"

Cocky bastard, England thought.

"Admit it …" America huffed. "You really enjoyed yourseeeeeelllll — AAH! E-England! I-I-I … aahhhhhh …" America couldn't finish. His voice tapered off into a high-pitched creaking sound.

England smirked up at him. While America was babbling on, England had reached up and penetrated him with two fingers. "You were saying?" asked England, his tone devious.

"Ahhhh … England …. whaaaaaa …"

England's fingers were pushed in to the knuckle. Then he began moving them like America had done to him earlier. He slid his fingers in and out, trying to match the rhythm that America was still thrusting into him with.

And that was another important point. That even though England's fingers were now in his ass, America never stopped. Hell, he didn't even slow down.

"Those don't sound like unhappy noises," teased England. "In fact, it sounds like you really enjoy that."

"Nggghh …" America whined.

In a good way.

"Yessss …" America hissed. "England … keep doing that …"

"Heh. Very well then."

That was all that was needed to push America over the edge. When England's fingers scraped against his prostate, he came instantly, suddenly, with a strangled choke.

"Ahh …!"

His body clenched, and he whimpered, as he released his spend inside of England.

Then America collapsed on top of him.

"Oof!" grunted England. "Hey, idiot! Get off me!"

"Nmmm …" America muttered lazily.

He was still catching his breath. His chest heaved and it occurred to them about the same time – as England was struggling in vain to roll America off of him — that it'd been a few minutes since they'd last checked on France. And those last few minutes were their loudest minutes. Their most distracted minutes. Orgasms are very damn distracting.

Both their heads snapped over to France's direction. They both looked panicked but then their expressions softened. France's eyes were closed, his mouth still slightly agape, looking to be off in a dreamland filled with wine and cheese and mimes and escargot. All the things France liked.

"Phew," they both breathed simultaneously.

America popped open his Tide Stick to attempt to rid the stains, but England told him not to bother. Between the spilled lube and semen, it was too much.

"Fuck it," he told America. "France won't know it was us. Those stains are his problem now."

"Oh snap!" cracked up America. "You are naught-tay …"

They hurriedly zipped up and buttoned their clothes. They pulled them straight, combing through their hair with their fingers, trying to look somewhat decent.

"God I hate this suit," America complained. "So damn chaffing, jeez."

"Hush. Let's go."

England hurried America out the door. They walked quickly but quietly down the hall and escaped out the back door, out into the garden.

America was quietly snickering the whole time.

X

America and England hopped in the car. As soon as both doors were shut, America burst into laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHA!" he laughed. "Damn, dude! That was HILARIOUS!"

Even England was chuckling a bit. "I have to admit. It is rather amusing, when you think about it."

"It's sooooo funny! Oh my God. I can't believe we got away with it!"

"Heh. We did." England smirked. "That'll teach that stupid frog …"

"So dude! What was your favorite part?"

England arched a large eyebrow. "Huh? America, it isn't a movie … why are you asking a dumb question like that …"

"I really liked when you sucked my dick, but my favorite part, was when I came! Hehe, yeah. That was definitely my favorite."

"Stop talking about this like it was a movie or play or something! You don't have a 'favorite part,' idiot!"

"Aw, come on. It's a prank. You can have a favorite part of a prank."

"Hmmph. Don't be weird about this."

"I'm not! Now come on." America leaned close to him, making England uncomfortable. "Your favorite part was when you came too, right?"

England crossed his arms. "Idiot. That's a dumb question."

"HA! I knew it!"

"Whatever …" mumbled England.

"Aww, you admit it!"

"Heh. I suppose I did rather enjoy that."

"HEHEHE!"

"Took you long enough for the reach-around, but better late than never I suppose."

"HEHEH — huh? What reach-around?"

"You know. When you gave me a wanking at the end there."

"… huh?"

England rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on! Even you're not that stupid! You beat me off, Christ!"

"Uh … I didn't do that …"

"Of course you did," scoffed England.

"I didn't. I was too busy banging you. I thought you jerked yourself off at the end?"

England swallowed nervously, thoughts starting to sink in. "N-no …"

"You didn't? I saw a hand … I could have sworn you did …"

"There was a hand … it wasn't mine, I was covering both our mouths …"

"Oh yeah!" said America. "That's right! But then … who did it?"

England had already figured it out. He buried his hands in his face and started to cry.

And he kept crying, sobbing things like "I wanna die I wanna die …" for several minutes, until finally it clicked with America.

"Oh!" he said finally. "I get it now! France!"

England only sobbed harder.

"Guess we were a little too loud after all," said America. " … oops."

And so the Frenchman had a very happy birthday after all.

(The end!)


End file.
